The Show Must Go On, but Maybe YOU Shouldn’t

It’s October, which means cold and flu season has officially arrived. For Hamilton Players, it also means we segue into our seasonal “contagion safety” protocols. During cold and flu season, we step up disinfection of high-touch public surfaces like doorknobs, counters, and bathroom fixtures. We run our air purifiers more regularly and in more areas of the building. From October through May, we require casts to wash their hands when they arrive for rehearsals and performances, although we certainly encourage that year-round. We also restrict shared foods like dips and salsas. There are plenty of reasons for all these precautions, with everyone's health and safety obviously at the top of the list.

But there's another very practical reason: We don't have understudies. One eensy-weensy virus can work its way through a cast remarkably quickly. One sick actor becomes three sick actors. Three become seven. Pretty soon, half the cast is coughing, the director is reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment, and an entire production may be in jeopardy. It can happen. It has happened.

So, beyond the precautions we take at the theater, there are some things actors can do to protect themselves, their castmates, and ultimately the show.

Wash your hands.

Handwashing is one of the simplest tools we have for reducing the spread of illness. And that means washing them more than once when you arrive at rehearsal. Wash them throughout the day. Wash them after using the bathroom, before eating, after blowing your nose, and whenever you've been touching things that approximately 847 other people have also touched. You never really know who touched what after touching who knows what. Nobody wants to discover they've achieved Patient Zero status in the cast.

Don't share.

We're taught from an early age to share and share alike. When it comes to theatrical preventative medicine, however, a little selfishness can be a virtue. Don't share water bottles, makeup, lip products, utensils, towels, or other personal items. Avoid sharing microphones whenever practical, or clean them appropriately between users. A good rule is that if something touches your mouth, nose, eyes, or bodily fluids, it probably doesn't need to become a community resource. There are several jokes available to me here. I'm going to demonstrate admirable restraint and move on.

Get some sleep.

Rehearsal schedules are exhausting. You're working all day, rehearsing all evening, practicing at home, learning lines, doing choreography, and still somehow expected to accomplish mundane tasks like laundry and feeding yourself. But sleep matters. Adequate sleep supports normal immune function, while chronic sleep deprivation can make us more susceptible to illness. It also affects concentration, memory, reaction time, and mood, none of which are particularly helpful things to sacrifice during a production. So when you're tempted to stay up until 1:00 a.m. running lines one more time, consider whether sleep might actually be the more productive rehearsal choice.

Create some distance from sick people at home.

If someone in your household gets sick, this is an excellent time to temporarily reconsider your usual domestic arrangements. Sleep separately if you reasonably can. Don't share drinks, utensils, towels, or pillows. Improve ventilation. Clean high-touch surfaces. Give the sick person some space. Yes, this may mean temporarily banishing your beloved to the couch. Or volunteering for couch duty yourself. Think of it not as rejection, but as an exciting short-term theatrical residency in the living room. Once they're improving and have been fever-free without fever-reducing medication for at least 24 hours, you can begin easing back toward normal life while still taking some extra precautions. Romance will survive. And if it doesn't, at least you made it to opening night.  

Be sensible about your health routine.

Some people swear by hot tea with lemon and honey. Others love saline rinses, zinc lozenges, vitamins, ginger, garlic, or whatever mysterious concoction their grandmother has been recommending since 1974. We're theater people, not doctors, so we're not going to prescribe your cold-and-flu regimen. Follow the health practices that are safe and appropriate for you. Eat. Hydrate. Sleep. Take care of yourself. Talk to your healthcare provider when you need actual medical advice. And perhaps most importantly, pay attention when your body tells you something isn't right.

When the Sniffle Becomes Something More

Not every sniffle means you need to miss rehearsal. Allergies exist. Lingering coughs exist. Minor symptoms exist. If you're dealing with something mild and otherwise feel well enough to participate, think about what you can do to protect the people around you. Wear a well-fitting mask if appropriate. Keep some physical distance when you can. Wash your hands frequently. Don't share personal items. Let your director know what's going on. And maybe skip the stage kissing for the evening.

Yes, masks can inspire strong opinions. But when you're recovering from a respiratory illness, they're one useful tool for reducing what you spread into the air around other people. They also have the very practical theatrical benefit of broadcasting: I HAVE THE CRUD. KEEP YOUR DISTANCE. Plus, again: stage-kissing roadblock.

But if you're genuinely sick, one of the most important things I can tell you is this:

Sometimes the most responsible thing you can do for a production is stay home.

There is a weird culture in theater around the show must go on that can very easily turn into I must go on no matter what. Those are not the same thing. Coming to rehearsal contagious because you don't want to let down the cast may ultimately be the very thing that does let down the cast. Directors have some responsibility here, too. We need to create rehearsal environments where legitimate illness is treated differently from unreliability. Actors need to know that they can say, "I'm sick." If the culture is How dare you miss rehearsal?, people will drag themselves through the door with influenza because they're afraid of being considered difficult or undedicated. And that doesn't help anyone. In fact, if you're sick enough that you shouldn't be there, we'd much rather know sooner rather than later. Give your director as much notice as possible. That gives us time to adjust the rehearsal schedule, work different scenes, review choreography, rehearse other actors, or find another productive use of the evening. Missing one rehearsal is inconvenient. Taking out half the cast is considerably more inconvenient.

Let's Retire the Sick-Day Heroics

There's also a slightly uncomfortable theater tradition worth talking about: we love a good war story. "I had a 102-degree fever and I STILL DID THE SHOW!" "I was throwing up between scenes!" "I had pneumonia, three broken ribs, and possibly scurvy, but I went on!" These stories are usually told as evidence of extraordinary dedication. And sometimes circumstances genuinely do leave very few options, particularly once performances have begun and there is no understudy waiting in the wings. But maybe we shouldn't automatically celebrate exposing thirty other people to an infectious illness as evidence of professionalism. Sometimes professionalism looks heroic. Sometimes professionalism looks like sweatpants, chicken soup, and texting your director, "I'm really sorry, but I need to stay home tonight." There should also be some obvious hard stops. Significant fever, repeated vomiting or diarrhea, symptoms severe enough that you can't safely perform, or an illness for which a healthcare provider has told you to stay home are not push through it situations. And yes, for the record, projectile vomiting is definitely a hard stop. We feel comfortable drawing that line.

Take Care of the Show by Taking Care of Each Other

"The show must go on" has never meant that every individual person must go on at all costs. It means we take care of the production. Sometimes that means showing up when you're tired, pushing through the awkward rehearsal where nothing seems to work, and honoring the commitment you made to your cast. And sometimes it means recognizing that your absence today may be the thing that protects everyone else's ability to be there tomorrow.

Staying home Tuesday when you're genuinely sick may be precisely what gets you healthy enough to perform Friday. It may also keep the person playing opposite you healthy enough to perform Friday. So wash your hands. Get some sleep. Keep your water bottle to yourself. Take care of your body. Tell your director when you're sick. And when necessary, stay home. Because sometimes the best way to make sure the show goes on is to recognize when you shouldn't.